


In time you'll find.

by orphan_account



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Stream of Consciousness, typical fanon flavor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-25
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2019-05-13 13:04:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14749406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: So he thinks maybe he'll just sit here and continue this way. As it was meant to be.





	In time you'll find.

**Author's Note:**

> Made this just to get out some frustration. Very much an indulgence piece. After the mood was over I still kinda liked it so I thought I'd share.

He stumbles, hits the wall and pain laces through his shoulder. Time stands a moment, as he braces himself before sliding down to rest. The night air is heavy, humid and suffocating. Traffic lights dance across wet concrete, colors bleeding and running with the water. 

It flows like the bourbon as it spreads from it's broken bottle, ruining the carpet behind his desk. Back in his office, watching his hands shake. Thinking he can't go to his room and see it sitting there. Can't see the ring on the dresser or the empty space in the closet. 

And it's followed by fire and ruin. But it's silent now as he watches it fall apart around him. He looks down and there's blood and boots buried underneath the wreckage. He sinks down to stare at it a moment before closing his eyes, wills the nightmare away. 

He's against the bricks of some dirty alley. Staring out and black. Boxing away the emotions until it's a facade of serenity. 

He thinks about leaving Ana in Egypt. He thinks about smashing the recall locator. He thinks about black smoke slipping through his fingers.

There's a nic in his heart. A tiny place that hurts at the bottom. A part of him always knew he'd be here. In the end, alone. Like he was before he met the sun. Sitting in silence, staying out of reach. He's an eye cut away. 

So he thinks maybe he'll just sit here and continue this way. As it was meant to be. 

He can't find it in himself to stand straight anymore. Or to stand up at all. Until there's something grabbing at him. 

A hand grips his bicep but not hard or cruel. The other moves over his face, but his eyes are blurred. They swim and sting. He resists the pull of his shadow. Turns from the touch to gain bearings on his own. Embarrassment floods through him, having been found in such a state. 

A man as prideful as he's been; drunk and drowning in the dark. 

And he knows what, who, looms over him. In the bottom of his soul, he knows. And the grief comes bursting out of its box, tears rolling in the wake. He wipes them away and tells the shadow he's fine. 

He's fine. Just give him a minute and he'll put it back where it belongs.

But it crowds him in. He crowds him in, surrounding him, hands on his face making him look forward. Into familiar brown eyes and he feels bad, guilty at the worry in them. 

Don't worry he tells him. Don't worry I'm fine. I just need a minute to breathe. 

The bracket collapses into a hold. Arms around his shoulders pressed chest to chest. There's no turning away from this.

So he grips back, fists bunched in his t-shirt. He sinks into the embrace, feels warm and safe and clear. He’ll never have this again. 

He never should've had it to begin with. And the truth of that breaks his heart all over again. Everyone was always right. He dared to think he could have anything and he was wrong. 

Tears still roll when his shadow pulls back. In a moment they're gone.

***

When he wakes it's slow going getting awareness of the surroundings. The room smells cheap but the bed isn't the worst. The wall ahead occupies his time. He’ll gladly stay here as long as he can.

He doesn't dare turn to face Gabriel. Doesn't want to know if the other side is cold. He's fine to burrow, continue the spiral. 

He closes his eyes and revels in the false comfort when he feels the ghost of a touch. It traces his hair a moment and then there's a shift. He feels the arm snake around his middle and he's not alone here. 

He's being pitied and it tastes sour. 

“Jack?” Gabriel whispers. 

“I'm sorry you saw that.” It's honest. He doesn't need to worry about Jack's capabilities. Doesn't need to placate him with hollow love. 

“You started that before,” Gabriel replies. 

It feels like he's laying on a table, heart out. “I just..” justification dropping. “I know what's going on,” he says. 

Gabriel leans up to peer over Jack's shoulder. He can feel fingers gentling through his hair. 

“I don't have any expectations of you. You don't have to do this,” Jack says, and the movement slows. 

He looks over at Gabriel, whose eyes brim with tears. So he turns to face him, touching his face to wipe them away. “You can let go. It's not like I don't deserve it any more than I did before.”

Gabriel sinks down, face in Jack's throat. “after everything..” 

Jack hugs him. “I'm tired of hurting you. You can let go.”

“I should never have before.” 

“Gabriel--”

“Stop. Please stop.” He says looking up, “stop drinking, stop believing all your worth is nothing.” 

A parody of a speech he's heard before, decades ago. 

It feels wrong to say he doesn't believe Gabriel's words. The look on his face. Jack feels tempered. 

“Ok.” He says


End file.
